Light and Anima
by DigiTails
Summary: Soren talks to Rhys. Rhys wants to learn light magic. Soren wants to learn how to use a staff. Takes place like a support, but it's not.
1. Broken Arm

**Disclaimer: I hereby note that I don't own the characters**

**Warning: Soren might be a little out of character  
**

**Extra Warning: Ending is full of cheese, like, it's choking**

**Final Note: I wrote this over a year ago**

**Final Final Note: . Written because I wanted Soren to have more support conversations in Path of Radiance  
**

_

* * *

Soren hates everything. I think he'd stop eating if he could._

Soren frowned. It had been some time since the last battle. And yet he had been unable to give Ike a summary. He normally would have by now. However, he couldn't chance outside of the cabins on the ship they were currently traveling in. He would wait to prepare the summary once the dragons were gone. There was no explaining the stone that formed in his gut when he thought about Goldoa. That, and his injury, were the reasons why he had disappeared into the cabins the moment that they had shown up.

Soren had noticed that Nasir had done the same. Shortly after boarding the ship Ike had told him that Nasir had said he was a laguz. Ike couldn't figure it out. There were no cat ears, a tail, or wings to be found on the shipmaster. Soren had simply told Ike that he didn't know a thing about the matter. However, the mage had had an idea. It was Nasir's ears. They were pointed. Not human. Soren didn't expect the others to notice, they were unobservant. He thought that Nasir was a dragon. But he didn't think that he should bring it up, Nasir was on their side. No need to mention it. If the need ever arose, Soren would tell Ike.

Nasir probably had a good reason to hide, if he was a dragon. As for him, he had no idea why. Memories came back to him, but he pushed them away. There was no reason to remember a past he didn't care for. Three words echoed in his head, despite his best efforts to stop them. _Spirit Charmer. Branded._ They alternated, becoming constantly louder in his mind each time they were said.

Soren had quite enough of the names fighting with each other by the time that the ship rocked. There were roars. The tactician stood up, instinctively wanting to see what was happening. However he sat back down. He had no intentions of going to see. Soren didn't know why. Perhaps when he walked out and one of the dragons saw him, they would call him a Branded. He didn't know what the term meant, but it had been hurled at him so unkindly in his youth that he knew it was not pleasant. Soren had no idea why the idea bothered him, but it did.

The ship trembled again, his arm jumped off of the desk it had been resting on and landed on the wooden surface again. Soren winced, using his right arm to cradle the injured limb to his chest. Only the slight narrowing of his crimson eyes and his position could indicate at the extreme pain that the mage was in.

The door opened, a figure stood in the doorway. Soren looked up and saw that it was Ike. The blue haired ranger looked around the room, his blue eyes rested on the mage.

"Soren! Have you seen Nasir? The boat's been-" He stopped and ran over to his friend. Kneeling in front of him, so as to look at him at eye level, Ike placed a hand on Soren's right arm. "Soren? What's the matter?"

"Nothing."

"Don't lie, it's not like you. I saw one of those birds hit you earlier. You looked alright enough then. Did it hit your arm?"

"Yes, but it's nothing to concern over." Soren admitted. "Nasir went to his quarters, Ike."

"Thanks, Soren. I'll send in Rhys to look at your arm, though."

Soren nodded and sat back in his chair. He looked at the limb. Fire burned from the middle of his forearm. The point where the avian had hit it.

Soren had suggested that they take their tougher warriors as defenders, letting Rolf, Ilyana and himself hit them from behind the protective barrier with Mist and Rhys healing. One of the ravens, a particularly fast one, had made it past Boyd. It flew towards Soren, who had just hit the laguz with a wind spell.

_

* * *

Soren tried to move in time to avoid the hit, while protecting his face with his left arm. He failed in dodging the blow, but kept his injuries to a minimal. The bird flew up and around to come around for another hit. Soren muttered a mild oath. His left arm was his casting hand. He needed his right to hold his tome open. There was so much pain that he was crippled, unable to retaliate. He watched as the raven circled him to strike again._

_The bird dropped to the deck after a shriek. There was an arrow sticking out of its neck. Soren looked over towards Rolf, Boyd's little brother. Soren sighed, it seemed that the child was more competent then the adult._

"_Sorry, Soren. Are you alright?" Boyd said as he walked up, throwing his hand axe towards the blue-feathered crow that Ike was facing. It struck, slicing the underside. Doubled with the commander's sword strike, the foe was killed. He caught it inexpertly. The back of his hand was sliced open._

"_Worry about yourself." Soren replied. "Go see one of our healers." He looked at his bleeding arm. A vulnerary could cure it. Boyd was clawed from the crows' talons and there were puncture wounds all over one of his arms, his left one, the one that wasn't holding his axe. He had taken a great deal of damage protecting the magicians and Rolf from the crows. No vulnerary could heal those injuries._

* * *

Soren thought. Now that they were moving again, he should work on his report for Ike. Not only that, some weapons needed to be replaced and he wasn't sure if they had the money for it. The door opened again, without the confidence that there had been when Ike had opened the door.

Soren turned and looked at who had entered. His white robes almost blended into his pale skin tone, which was not as pale as Soren's.

"Hello, Soren." The priest said as he walked into the room.

Soren glanced at the older man. He sat upright in the chair. "Rhys." He said. Rhys had joined them a year ago, almost. Soren had only been there for a week after Rhys had been made a member of the company. He had left then to train with another mercenary group. After his return he hadn't much time to examine the healer. From what he could remember, and knew from the battlefield, Rhys was a good healer, but he was sickly and weak.

"Right. Commander Ike said that I should...look at your arm?" His voice had gotten quieter during his sentence. Almost as though he were afraid of Soren.

"Yes." Soren replied, almost pitying Rhys, but half disgusted. Only the enemy had to fear him. He motioned to his left arm, which was lying on the table again.

Rhys walked over to Soren and gently pushed the sleeves of Soren's robes up his arm. Soren's mouth twitched at the motion, but he made no complaint. Rhys did not move the limb, only took note of the swelling and discoloration on Soren's pale skin.

"It's broken." Rhys stated. "Let me go get Mist's heal staff."

"Mhm? What's the matter with yours?"

"It broke in that conflict with the laguz, right after I healed Boyd."

Soren settled back into his chair and groaned. His arm had actually broken. No wonder the pain hadn't gone away when he had treated it with a vulnerary. He sighed, another distraction from his work. He pulled a piece of parchment from the side of the table, dipped a quill into his ink pot and began to write, being careful of his other hand. He was tallying the amount that they had spent before their last battle and subtracting it from the amount that they now had. Which was not all that great.

"Perhaps those crows had some treasure on them." Soren muttered. He would see about that later. He knew that they needed a heal staff for Rhys. The mage would also have to inquire about the states of the rest of the party's weapons. There was also the matter of Jill, the Daein soldier that had come aboard the ship. He looked up when the door opened again.

"Sorry for taking so long." Rhys mumbled as an apology when he got closer and looked at the mage's injury. "It must hurt a lot."

"Mildly." Soren replied. In truth he was used to broken bones, but it wasn't a matter Rhys needed to, or should, hear about.

Rhys frowned at Soren, "Next time come and see me immediately. They're harder to heal the longer they stay." He lifted his staff above the injury and mumbled something that Soren couldn't quite make out. The gem on the top of the staff glowed blue and a pleasant balm like warmth washed down his arm, healing the injury. "Did the ravens do that?"

"Yes."

"The wound on your arm was expertly treated, despite the broken bone. Did Mist do that?"

"No. I used a vulnerary."

Rhys seemed a little taken aback by the response. Soren understood why. Most of the members of the company didn't use the healing herbs to their potential and were usually left with scars or other injuries that he or Mist wound up treating later.

"Right. Well, if you have any more injuries, see Mist or myself."

"How's that staff holding out?" Soren asked suddenly when Rhys was at the door.

"Oh, it was just bought. It's fine."

Soren exhaled as his door was shut. He turned back to the paper on his desk. There were other matters to attend to.


	2. Lessons and Knowledge

_Magic comes from interaction with spirits. If you let one into your body, it will give you tremendous power_

Soren stared at his maps. They had entered Begnion several days ago. Aside from Ike's first meeting with the apostle, nothing of note had happened. Which was good for Soren. It meant that there were fewer supplies to worry about. But he was bored out of his mind. He was trying to learn some more magic spells in his spare time. Which he had plenty of. But now he had put aside the magic tome and was looking at all possible routes back to Crimea, if they successfully garnered the apostle's help.

There was a cautious knock on his door. Soren frowned and looked up at the door. "Come in." He said.

The door opened very slowly, and Soren saw Rhys's head poke in.

"Sorry, Soren. Am I interrupting you?" The priest asked.

Soren shook his head and turned to place his maps back in order. "Did you break another heal staff tending to Kieran's training injuries?"

"Um...No. I didn't."

"What is it?" Soren stood up and walked over to Rhys, who was barely standing in the room, half covered by the door.

"I...uh-was wondering if you could teach me how to...um...use magic?"

"Out of the question. Magic requires a great deal of concentration to use in battle. Otherwise it backfires and could kill yourself, or a teammate. You freeze when an enemy comes near you, I seriously doubt that you would have the concentration necessary. Besides, magic tomes are expensive."

"I-I'm sorry for upsetting you. I d-don't know anything about magic I thought t-that maybe you could t-teach me." Rhys seemed to be creeping back into the hallway. His hand was clearly still on the handle, for the door was beginning to shake.

Soren sighed, "Why did you want to use magic in the first place?" He couldn't help but feel bad for Rhys. He was always nervous, sick, and weak. Pity was a new emotion for him, and he didn't like it one bit.

"Well, I...that is to say..." Rhys hadn't quite expected Soren to agree, so he wasn't surprised by Soren declining his request. However, he hadn't quite expected Soren to show any form of interest in the matter. "I'd like to defend myself in battle so that others wouldn't have to. I was hoping that training with Titania would give me strength, but it- it hasn't."

"You're a priest, Rhys. Priests don't fight in battles. They heal." It wasn't meant to comfort the poor man. It was the truth. He was only trying to point out how absurd his idea was. However, it did seem to give the priest some form of ease, as though he felt that Soren understood the matter.

"I-I know, Soren. Titania told me the same thing. But I-I hate being such a burden on everyone. I thought I could cause less grief on them if I could defend myself." Soren did not make any sort of response to Rhys's statement beyond raising an eyebrow. In fact he had no words. Rhys wasn't weak, in spirit at least. He was nervous, but his desire seemed earnest and sincere. It took him a moment to say something.

"So why magic?"

"Well. It's the o-other priests here. They t-think that because I wield a staff I should know what to do with a tome. But I don't k-know what it says. They said such cruel things when they found that out. They e-even gave me a tome, said it was the most basic of light magic and that if I couldn't master e-even it, I was useless."

"Let me see it." Soren said.

"I...um...here." Rhys said, clearly dumbstruck as he handed the book over.

Soren took the tome and opened it, scanning the words. It was written in an ancient tongue. One that he had only learned enough of to cast his magic spells, and have the potential to learn others. The mage flipped through the pages, red eyes scanning the words. At length he handed it back.

"Very basic. Light tome. Forty uses. However, with magic, even if you miss, you wear it down."

"Oh! I just wish that I could read the words."

"It isn't just about the words. You have to know the spell inside and out. Magic is not forgiving." Soren was surprised at finding himself quoting his teacher.

_Magic is not forgiving, Soren! If you can't master these simple tasks you shouldn't be called a mage! Know the spell. Feel the spell. Only once you know it inside and out can you use it!_

"Oh. Sorry to be a bother."

Soren stood there and thought. He had learned a great deal about magic. His teacher had brushed him up, just a little, on white magic. Only priests could learn it because it had something to do with how well that they knew staves. And there were certain white spells that could restore energy when used, very useful for priests since they cannot heal themselves.

"I'll just be goi-" Rhys said as he began to withdraw from the staff officer's quarters. However Soren pulled the door open, irritated.

"Just tell me one thing, Rhys." Soren said as he walked back to his chair and sat down. "Why me? You're clearly afraid of me. So why not ask Ilyana? Magic isn't an innate ability, you have to learn it from somewhere. Anyone that knows magic remembers their lessons and could teach another the core fundamentals."

"Well, you're just adept at it. And...wait...you had to learn magic too?"

That remark, however clueless it was for Rhys, angered Soren. Soren closed his eyes, mouth twitching in anger. The two years of torture that he had suffered at the hands of his teacher, and this priest didn't think it had happened. Then he sighed, Rhys had no way of knowing that, and no right to. "Why do you think that I didn't?" His tone was clipped.

"I didn't mean to anger you!" Rhys exclaimed in fear, "So sorry."

Soren took a moment to calm down and let cool logic take over again. "Answer my question, Rhys."

"Well, I mean that you're just so adept at magic. Everyone says that you're a Spirit Charmer...so I t-thought that you just-"

"Spirit Charmer? A lot of people would say that about me. But even for a Spirit Charmer that sort of power is useless unless you're taught how to harness it."

_Why are you doing this to me, Soren? Do you think that just because you're a Spirit Charmer you have no need to take my lessons seriously? You're powerful because of that, but not all-knowing. You need to learn the spells before your power can be of use, otherwise you might as well just be a Branded._

"So...are you?"

Soren just looked at Rhys, "Do you want to learn, or not? That's none of your concern."

"R-right. So s-sorry."

"Just come in and sit down, close the door too." He wasn't teaching Rhys out of any form of charity. It was just logical that the priest should learn some art of defense. It would make battles with him involved much easier.

Rhys took to his abbreviated lessons much quicker then Soren had thought he would. Rhys could adeptly read the words in a matter of hours. By the time dinner was nearly served, Soren was pretty sure that Rhys could use the spell without killing anyone in the room. However, Soren did not think that testing it out in his room was a good idea. "Come on, Rhys." He said curtly as he got up and walked towards his door.

"W-what? Did I not get it right?"

"No. You got it right. Get up, you need to test it before battle."

"Oh!" Rhys said as he stood up and scrambled to get his tome. He knocked a paper to the ground. "Sorry." Rhys said and picked up the parchment, replacing it in a matter of moments.

"Do others pick up that quickly? I came to you after breakfast. I thought that it would take longer."

"No. Then again, you did have some knowledge of magic."

"Hm?"

"Staves. They rely on magical power just as spells do. I've been told that for priests white magic is easy to pick up for that reason. That incantation you mutter when healing is the same language as that in the book. You have never read it before, that's why understanding it was so difficult." Soren explained as briefly as possible.

"Do you know white magic, Soren?"

"No. Only priests can, and should, learn it. I know the words and how the spells work from basic principle, but I cannot cast it. White magic relies on a desire to achieve good in the world, a love of healing, and an optimistic state of mind to cast it in. Mages lack that, if we used spells optimistically, we would miscast them."

"Oh." Rhys said as they came into a courtyard that was fairly desolate. Soren walked a fair distance away, the limit of the tome, and came back. He had left a piece of parchment on ground.

"Now then. See that, over there?"

"Y-yes?"

"Hit it. Three times in a row. We stop after that. Or if you seriously injure yourself...or me."

"What about dinner?"

"Magic is unforgiving and does not take well to being miscast. You cannot let anything break your concentration, not hunger, nor weariness, nor pain. If that was a wounded person, and that tome was a staff, you wouldn't care much about your own suffering would you?"

_Concentrate, Soren! Until you hit that pen over there you'll not eat. If you can't concentrate you might as well just be a useless Branded._

"N-no. I get it. Alright then."

Soren stood there for a couple minutes, thoroughly bored. There was nothing else he could tell him. His lessons in spells had taken years. But that was because he had no previous dealings with magic and had been a very young child. Rhys did, and he was older, wiser, more understanding. Soren knew that it took some time to learn staves. Teaching Rhys earlier had reminded him of something, his own lessons. And of three words. _Spirit Charmer. Branded._

Soren still had no clue what being a Branded meant. But he had heard the names whispered so many times since reaching Begnion, and he knew that they were about him. The hushed arguments debating what he was. His hearing and his skills of observation were abnormal. No one probably thought that he heard them, but he had.

"Did you see that, Soren?" Rhys asked suddenly. "I think I've finally got the hang of it."

Soren looked over at the target. He had blindly been taking note of how many times he had cast the spell. That was his thirty-third try. But the target had finally been hit.

"Good. Two more times. In a row."

"Right then." The priest said and cast it twice more. He hit both times.

"Good. Use up the rest of the tome."

"Wh-what?"

"There's no point in going into battle with that. Only five more uses. But this time, hit it while it moves." Soren brought out his favorite wind tome. It was useful for doing small feats on a day-to-day basis. It was a training tome, something he had picked up from his teacher's hovel. They never wore out, but they were no good in a fight, as they barely had any effect at all. He cast a spell, sending the target flying. "Your opponents won't stand still and let you hit them, will they?"

"N-no. Y-you're right." Rhys said and cast the light spell once, nearly hitting the paper. It took him a moment but he nailed it the second time. Soren had to blast it back into the air. By the time Rhys was done with the tome, the paper was in shreds.

"Good. Don't forget anything. Especially how you felt when casting it. That state of mind is extremely important. I'll see that a new tome is given to you before we go into battle next time."

"Th-thank you, Soren."

Soren paused while picking up the scraps of paper. He hadn't been thanked very often in his life. He was at a loss of what to say. Usually, only Ike thanked him. "You're welcome?"

"I suppose that dinner hasn't been served yet?"

"I guess." Soren said.

Rhys smiled at Soren, something that he was completely unused to. Soren muttered something unintelligible under his breath and walked off. Leaving Rhys behind. The priest followed him to the dining hall. It appeared that they were a few minutes late for the meal. But Soren managed to slip in unnoticed. He was usually late for meals. So no one cared, normally.

"Hey, Soren," Titania said as she walked over to him. "Have you seen Rhys? I haven't seen him all day. I'm worried. I hope he's not sick."

"I saw him a few minutes ago. He should be arriving shortly." Soren said and walked off to get his small portion of food. He sat down next to Ike. The ranger always kept the seat to his left open for the mage.

"Hi, Soren. How are you?"

"Fine. Yourself?"

"Hopelessly bored. How can you keep yourself busy when there's nothing to do but sit in stifling surroundings?"

Soren cracked a very weak smile at Ike's comments. "I try to catch up on my spell learning in my spare time."

"Spell learning? Oh, I get it. It's like training with a sword, right? Otherwise you get rusty?"

"Mhm. That's a mild way of putting it. But fairly accurate none-the-less...You seemed surprised when I mentioned it, Ike."

"Oh well, I guess that since wielding magic was so different from a weapon, I thought that powerful mages like you didn't have to do anything like that."

Soren frowned and placed his fork on his plate. That had reminded him of Rhys's earlier comments. _Well, I mean that you're just so adept at magic. Everyone says that you're a Spirit Charmer...so I t-thought that you just-_

_Spirit Charmer. Branded. Spirit Charmer. Braaan~did._

_Branded! You're Branded! Keep away from me, filthy child!_

_Sometimes I wonder if a Spirit Charmer should really be so slow at picking up magic. Maybe you're just a Branded. But you do pick up faster then most. Perhaps you are a Spirit Charmer after all._

_Branded! He has to be a Branded._

_Spirit Charmer. He's a mage after all. And they say he's a good one too._

_See that mark? He's Branded. He'll bring a century of suffering upon us!_

_There's no way a staff officer in a mercenary company working for a princess, and here at the apostle's leave, could be a Branded. He has to be a Spirit Charmer._

"Soren? Something wrong?"

"No, it's nothing. I just remembered something important I wanted to look up. Do you know if we can look in the library?"

"I guess so. I don't see why not."

"Good." Soren said as he stood up.

"Soren, aren't you going to finish? You haven't even touched your food."

"I'm not that hungry, Ike." Soren said as he walked out of the room. He brushed passed Rhys as the priest entered the mess hall. He walked towards the library.


	3. Help and Quiet

_The Branded. A cross between a beorc and a laguz._

Soren walked away from his quarters. He was thoroughly fed up, being cooped up the entire time. He felt like a caged animal. Then again, it was only fitting. He was part laguz, right? So he should naturally feel like a beast. Sub-human, half-breed. The terms that fit him went on and on. And the part that annoyed him the most, is that they fit him more readily then they did laguz. However, ever since he had found out about his parents, he hadn't felt like talking to anyone much. He mostly left his room when it was time for dinner or he had to go.

He stopped to look at himself in a mirror that he had passed by. He was vaguely surprised that it didn't shatter when his image came to its reflective surface. By all rights it should have. He was a violation of the goddess's laws. He had no right to be alive. Ashera had said that laguz and beorc should not cross. Society demanded it too. Soren hadn't put a huge emphasis on Ashera, however he knew her laws as well as most people.

Soren walked away from the mirror. He was no Spirit Charmer, he had always known that. But he had thought that the red mark on his head was a birthmark. He had never that that it could actually be, be this.

And he couldn't deny its truth. It all fit. He was older then Ike, by a few years. And yet, and yet he was shorter and looked many years younger then Ike. He hadn't aged much in the last three years. Just like a laguz wouldn't age. He was hated by laguz and beorc alike because they knew what the mark meant. It was why no one ever wanted anything to do with him.

Soren considered himself somewhat fortunate in the fact that most of the company thought it merely the mark of a Spirit Charmer and that Ike had no reason to inquire about it. Greil must have known, Soren thought. For a man that wise and old how could he have not? So why didn't he hate him back when he had been alive? Why had he told Ike that he could come back to the mercenary base with them? Why? Why show such a disgusting half-breed such kindness?

He exhaustedly threw his arms onto the lip of a nearby balcony that overlooked the main part of Begnion and faced the tower from which Ashera was said to rule from. He could not bring his eyes to look at the top, where she was said to be. He felt as though she might smite him if he did.

"Magnificent view, isn't it, Soren?" An optimistic, yet cheerful voice called out from behind him.

Soren turned to look at who spoke to him. "Oh, Rhys. You." Soren glanced over the view once more, skipping over the tower and turned his back to it. "I suppose you could say that." Why was he bothering to talk with this priest? He had a direct connection to the divine. He should hate him beyond reason. And yet he couldn't.

"Is something wrong, Soren?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Well, it's just because you haven't really come out of your room since that day you taught me how to use this," Rhys said and lifted up the light tome. "Ike's been concerned. He wanted me to see if you were ill or injured. You know, after we finished that mission for the apostle you went back to your room and only talked to Ike to give him a battle summary, and you sit by yourself now when you eat, which is only at dinner."

"There's nothing to be done about it, Rhys. Just tell Ike that I'm fine."

"Soren, I can't lie to the commander." Rhys leaned on the railing as well, he was facing the city, but his head was turned towards Soren.

Soren stared at Rhys for a few moments and then changed topic, "You're not as nervous around me now, Rhys. Why is that? You used to tremble so violently."

Rhys smiled at Soren, almost understanding, almost pitying. "Well, at first I only had to go by what the others said about you. You know in that first week I was so caught up I didn't really get the chance to talk to you. And then you left, when I asked about you, everyone just said how hurtful, mean, cold, and insensitive you were. Ike and Commander Greil were the only ones that said decent things about you. And after you came back, well, the first mission was when we found Princess Elincia. When you said we should leave her, I thought that everyone else was right. With all the trouble and chaos of Daein chasing us afterwards, it was just like that first week."

"So what changed your mind? That sounds just like me. Insensitive and cold."

"You were willing to talk to me, Soren. And you only said the truth about me. You weren't insensitive, just logical...and blunt, like Commander Ike. You're an honest person, Soren. Not very sociable, but honest. Certainly not cold-hearted either."

Soren had nothing to say to Rhys's statements. Perhaps that was true, but why should a priest of all people say such a thing about him? It was almost like what Ike had said before they had found the apostle.

_I'm no better, you know. Your ability to speak plainly the things others won't is part of what makes you brilliant. Others are too bound by courtesy... With you, I trust that what you say is exactly what you think._

"Soren. Is something wrong? Are you ill? Injured at all?"

Soren closed his eyes, willing his face not to betray any emotion. "No. I'm not."

Soren couldn't see Rhys, but he heard the priest sigh. "Then there truly is something emotional bothering you." Soren's eyes snapped wide open, "I thought as much. Your appetite was always normal at meals, so you couldn't be ill, and I didn't think that you were injured. I guess you don't want to talk about it with me." Soren just moved his glance as far from Rhys as possible, "But you should at least tell Ike about it, Soren. Keeping it to yourself, whatever it is, won't do you any good at all. Take my word for it."

"What are you going to tell Ike?"

"I'll them him that there's no physical problem. I don't think that he'll figure it out...That sounds like the best idea. But you really should tell him, soon." Rhys reached out a hand to place it on Soren's shoulder, but the mage moved away. "But in the mean time, is there anything I could do to help you, Soren?"

There was a long silence. "I'd like to learn how to use a staff." Soren finally mumbled.

"You want to heal on the battlefield?"

"These fights keep getting harder and harder on us. Staves aren't any particular type of magic at all, so mages can learn to use them."

"But don't most of them learn to use knives?"

Soren shrugged, "I don't have physical strength, but I have magical power. It's a wiser idea."

"That's a good idea, Soren. You taught me how to injure, I'll teach you how to heal."


End file.
